Z:
(Whistles the tune from the Man From Lamancha while waiting for her to
pick up. She doesn't. He sighs and calls again. He hears a sleepy voice when she answers on
the last ring, but doesn't note it, just speaks) Pick up waffles at the waffle house.
A:
No, hello? No, good morning? No, did you notice it's a bright gorgeous
day? No, did you sleep well? Just bark out an order?
Z:
Did you just wake up?
A:
(Silence for thirty seconds followed by a throat clearing and a louder
tone) Waffles, right? Strawberry?
Z:
(Grins, knowing he had forestalled all whining and complaining) Make mine sausage with a side of maple.
A:
I am thinking I'll pick up some brownies at Bing's for National Blonde
Brownie Day.
Z:
(Knowing she had put him on speaker phone, hearing unmistakable sounds
of brushing teeth and rushing about, he keeps the phone connection live) Fine. While
you get ready, I'll story you:
Farmer Brown, who lived
in the dale, near the river and round the bend, was lying on his deathbed
barely able to breathe. Just as he was
about to expire, the aroma of freshly baked brownies came to him. He had always
had a passion for this confection and for the first time in many days, he found
an appetite and thought to himself, "If I could just have one more brownie
I could die in peace!"
He called to his wife,
"Patty.... Patty.... Patty Whacker." His voice was so frail she could not hear
him. Tried again, but still he didn't
get an answer. Sliding slowly and
carefully out of the bed, feeling every ache in his fragile, dying body, he
slipped onto the floor. Inch by inch, he
dragged himself across the room and out into the hallway. Again, he called out as loud as he could,
"Patty, m'dear."
Nothing.
So, down the hall and
down the stairs he went ever so cautiously, crawling hand over hand, closer and
closer to that heavenly smell. At the bottom of the stairs he pulled himself
along painfully -- managing to get his feet, shuffling along, using the wall to
keep himself from falling. The delicious
aroma drew him, lured him, gave him a reason for every ragged breath.
He dragged himself
across the living room, across the dining room and finally up into his chair at
the dining table. Huffing, eyes reddened, hand shaking, he reached across the
table and grabbed the tray of freshly baked brownies.
As he pulled the tray
towards himself it made a scraping noise, and suddenly he heard his wife yell
from the kitchen, "Don't touch the brownies, they're for the
funeral!"
Z:
Cold beotch!
A: (By now, Ang had made it out the door, to the Waffle House, cell phone still on speaker) The waitress laughed at your story.
A: (By now, Ang had made it out the door, to the Waffle House, cell phone still on speaker) The waitress laughed at your story.
Z:
Nice.
A:
I'm off to the bakery.
Z:
(He heard the car door slam, keys drop, fumbling about, cussing, finally
engine starts, squeal of tires) Here is
another story:
A neatly dressed
salesman brazenly approached a stranger and stopped the man just as he was
about to cross the street. "Sir,
would you like to buy a bottle of this mouthwash for $200.00?"
Aghast, the man took a
step away, "Are you nuts? That's robbery!"
The salesman seemed
hurt and then tried again, "Sir, since you are a bit irate, I'll sell it
to you for 1/2 price at $100.00?"
Again, the man replied
bluntly, "You must be crazy pal, now, go away!"
The salesman then
reached into his briefcase and pulled out two brownies and began munching away
on one of them. He told the irate guy, "Sir, please share one of my
brownies since I have annoyed you so much."
Unwrapping the brownie,
the guy took a bite. His lips pinched,
eyes watered, and then suddenly, the
guys spat out a brown mass and said, "Hey," he snarled, "this
brownie tastes like crap!"
"It is,"
replied the salesman. "Wanna buy some mouthwash?"
Z:
Cold dude!
A:
I'm at the bakery. Sample
tray! Yea!
Z:
Make my brownies maple frosted.
A:
I'll have to wait to have them frosted.
Z:
I just put on a pair of ass-less chaps.
If you don't hurry I'll change out of them. (He teases because he can) I'll tell you one more story.
One day there was a woman waiting for her husband to come home from work.
One day there was a woman waiting for her husband to come home from work.
When he got there she
said in a crone's tone, “Listen, I need you to fix the stairs, they are
creaking again.”
Her husband tossed off
his jacket, undid his tie, and replied with aggravation, “Look, I had a hard
day at work all I want is to have a beer and go to bed. Does it look like I
have carpenter written across my forehead?” So he had his beer, burped and went
to bed.
The next day when he
came home from work his wife said in a not as cordial voice, “Listen, I need
you to fix the pipes, they are leaking, again.”
Her husband applied the
same routine as the day before, “Look, I had another hard day at work, all I
want to do is have a beer and go to bed. Does it look like I have plumber
written across my forehead?” So he had his beer, burped and went to bed.
The next day he came
home from work and asked his wife, “What is it, what do you want this time?
Yesterday it was the pipes the day before that it was the stairs. What do you
want, now?”
His wife replied, “Oh,
nothing dear, the neighbor came over and took care of everything.”
Her husband replied,
“Oh, that’s good, how much do we owe him?”
She said, “Nothing, he
said I could either bake him a tray of brownies or sleep with him.”
Her husband asked
jokingly, “Well, what did you do, bake him a tray of brownies or sleep with
him?”
She replied, “What does
it look like, I have Betty Crocker written across my forehead?”
A:
(Breathlessly appears, clicking the cell phone off) I am here!
(Laughs as she prepares the table with all the breakfast goodies) I get it.
Paybacks can be a bitch!
Z:
Your point?
A:
I ran all these errands for you... wait!
I owe you.
Z:
But... you were late!
A:
Because of you!
Z:
No way!
A:
Way! (Places the biggest brownie
on her own plate and using a pointer finger swipes the maple frosting off of
his brownie)
CHASING
YESTERDAY EXCERPT
His face opened up in a grin,
so beautifully white and disarming, a grin that contrasted against the curve
and texture of masculine lips and the tawny sun glow of his complexion. For Elizabeth
it was a can’t-catch-your-breath-upon-seeing-it type of grin, a
come-on-let’s-play type of grin, a you-had-my-heart-at-first-sight type of
grin. Elizabeth couldn’t know her
responding smile dazzled with charm and come-hither enticement. She understood,
however, she wanted him to come to her; she did her best to show that yearning,
waiting, as well home-schooled daughters were taught. Her gaze flicked away,
returned with a gentle toss of bronze-toned wavy hair, highlighted by the sun-sheen. One side of his lip lifted a bit higher as if
in acknowledgement of her flirtatious behavior. Her smile turned sweet, her
glance found the ground, all actions that teased and offered. She would wait
for his response. Give him those few moments to approach. However, her patience
was dishonored, for when she
looked back his way, he wasn’t there.
"Scoundrel," she
lashed out, "Tease!" Elizabeth sniggered, knowing she had him hooked,
as did that lad earlier to his fish. She knew the game, watched it, men
chased though acted as if they
didn’t whereas women said they never chased but did.
***
We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at writingteamcw@yahoo.com (Write - Blog Dawn - in subject line) and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.
Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane
www.champagnebooks.com - www.carnalpassions.com - angelicahartandzi.com
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